


Arabella

by renegadeartist



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, apprentice au, mad sorcerer ryan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 21:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1403023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renegadeartist/pseuds/renegadeartist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amid the vials of strangely colored liquids and thousand-paged books he saw just who the newest customer was. He stood tall, with orange hair and an impressive beard to match. He seemed rich, in his pressed black waistcoat and slashed sleeves, but looks could be deceiving. The hat on his head was worn black velvet- the only truly expensive thing on him- that seemed to be falling apart at the seams.</p><p> </p><p>It took a moment for the man to find the apprentice behind the counter. It was obvious he was not used to sorcerer’s shops. “Ah, hello!” well he seemed cheery enough.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello,” the apprentice begrudgingly responded. “What brings you here today?” maybe he would make his purchase and leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arabella

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, new story. Sorry for all shittieness and general Achievement Hunter brand humor that'll probably come out of this. Swearing abounds, short sentences, Ryan being weird, ect. I'll put warnings at the beginning of the chapters if any are needed or if I actually continue this. Welp, enjoy!

The apprentice’s room was dark. With only a candle to light the small space one had to squint to read the spindly lines on the paper in front of them. The whole room had a single desk as a workspace, though it was quickly becoming clear that a spring cleaning was in order. With all the papers piled high and the old brittle books he had borrowed from his master it was a wonder that the whole thing hadn’t gone down in flames. He suspected Ryan had something to do with it.

 

The chime from the shop rang, and Michael had to rush to make it to the small subsection of the place he lived during his apprenticeship. He found himself behind the old wood counter that sectioned the shop off from the rest of the building.

 

Amid the vials of strangely colored liquids and thousand-paged books he saw just who the newest customer was. He stood tall, with orange hair and an impressive beard to match. He seemed rich, in his pressed black waistcoat and slashed sleeves, but looks could be deceiving. The hat on his head was worn black velvet- the only truly expensive thing on him- that seemed to be falling apart at the seams.

 

It took a moment for the man to find the apprentice behind the counter. It was obvious he was not used to sorcerer’s shops. “Ah, hello!” well he seemed cheery enough.

 

“Hello,” the apprentice begrudgingly responded. “What brings you here today?” maybe he would make his purchase and leave.

 

He adjusted his waistcoat, trying to appear professional. He probably rented that coat from the clothing store across the commons. Why he would bother to get gussied up for a trip to a sorcerer’s shop was beyond him. “I am here to talk to the sorcerer that runs this place.” Maybe he would be staying longer than expected.

 

“That would be the self-styled Lord Haywood.” Lord of a ramshackle building at the corner of the commons. Michael suspected he styled himself lord for the express reason that sorcerers didn’t have titles. And the ones they did were, to quote the man himself, “fucking lame.”

 

“Say it's Jack. He’ll know who I am.” Sure he would. That’s what they all say. But maybe he had judged too quickly. He didn’t seem angry, but he remembered one of his very first customers who tried to go against the no-return policy. They had seemed cheery then too. He always wondered why Ryan kept that rule when most of his potions or enchantments were iffy at best.

 

He found Ryan with toast half buttered and straight black coffee sitting half drunk and still steaming next to a pile of black cloth and pale hair. Ryan hadn’t slept last night.

 

He nudged the sorcerer. “Hey, asshole.”

 

No response. Michael had been apprenticed to Ryan for nearly half a year and yet the man still managed to surprise him. Though this he was more than used to.

 

Might as well try again. “Asshole. Jack’s here.”

 

That seemed to work, because Ryan jerked up almost spilling the coffee that Michael had swiped away from the man’s waving arms. “What?”

 

“Jack’s here. Says you know him.” Short bursts of words helped the information to sink into Ryan’s thick just-woken-up skull.

 

“Who- oh,” Michael sighed. Sometimes he regretted being apprenticed to Ryan. “Right. Jack. ‘M surprised you didn’t scare him away.”

 

“Well a man like that’s obviously important.” He helped Ryan get up, his over-done robe falling around his ankles. In reality he only wore it around when he slept. But he didn’t have time to change now. “And he didn’t give me a chance. Besides, you need the money right now.”

 

  
“Whatever. It’s not like they can tell people about it when I turn them into cows.”

 

“That happened one time on _accident._ Get off your high horse.” Truth be told _Michael’s_ on-the-spot casting was leagues better then Ryan’s. The only time he actually pulled something off vaguely like he wanted it to was when he turned one guy into a cow. He wasn’t too sure what happened to him after that, probably something weird. Ryan was a weird guy.

 

Jack was still waiting for them when they stumbled back into the shop. Ryan strolled over to the man and took a drink from his coffee mug. “Hey Jack.”

 

“Hey Ryan. Geoff wants to talk to you. Actually he wants to talk to all of us.”

 

“Alright, I’ll be there in a few. Tell Geoff to save one for me.” Well that wasn’t weird at all. “Hey, Michael. Could you get me my street clothes?”

 

Street clothes translated to black slacks, black waistcoat, white undershirt, heavy boots, and top hat.  Why he always insisted on calling them street clothes was beyond him. “Sure, asshole.”

 

He left, but not before hearing Jack mutter, “Don’t apprentices usually have respect for their masters?”

 

“Yeah, but Michael’s a special kind of person.”

-.-

Whatever it was that Ryan had to go to was apparently lasting a long-ass time. It was a meeting of some sort, that much Michael was sure of. Maybe he was at a meeting for Sorcerers Anonymous. Maybe he was admitting he was an asshat that probably shouldn’t be allowed near sharp objects.

 

But the absence of the sorcerer sparked an idea in his mind. He could sneak into Ryan’s workroom. The one at the end of the hall with the huge do not enter sign, the one with the weird noises that became increasingly loud at night and were hard enough for Michael to get used to his first week as an apprentice.

 

The one that Ryan never let him see.

 

The door was like he remembered it. Old wood, brass knob, creaky hinges.  He eased it open, and snuck inside. Though there was really no need he tiptoed into the room. It was dark and walled in stone. There were cauldrons and vials and measuring tools, bookcases overflowing with tomes stuffed with scraps of paper and marks on the walls. It was damp and cold and quiet.

 

“Well this is kind of what I expected.” What had he expected? Dead bodies on dissection tables? Maybe?

 

Nope, just a damp room of a mad scientist.

 

A yelp sounded in the small space. Michael’s heart leapt to his throat.

 

“Shut it asshole, he’ll hear us.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

Alright maybe things were off limits for a reason. Oh well, might as well embrace his inner white-person-in-a-horror-novel. “Who’s that?”

 

“Fuck. You fucked up Vav now he knows we’re here.”

 

“No, seriously I don’t need this shit.” He didn’t need the shit scared out of him at fuck-knows-o’clock.

 

“Shit dude sorry. We’re just chillin’ in the closet if you wanna hang.”

 

There was a muffled snicker and a thump and a yelp. Well, here goes nothing. The old wooden closet’s door was wrenched open and the content was comprised of an old scuffed cane, a worn hat, and a pile of sheets.

 

“What the fuck…?”

 

The sudden jerking of the cane sent Michael sprawling onto his back as a reflex. What the fuck what the fuck. It moved. It fucking moved.

 

Sorcerer’s workroom. Right. Again, what had he expected?

 

“Ok, so is this some bullshit enchantment? Or am I high on the chemicals in here?”

 

“Bullshit enchantment.” The sarcastic, monotone voice seemed to be coming from the cane. So that meant the other one was either the sheets or the hat.

 

“Care to explain?” He didn’t really care, honestly. It was weird enough as it was. He didn’t need a method to the madness.

 

“Well,” the hat began, “Ryan’s been practicing animating objects. We were his first experiment. I’m Gavin, that’s Ray.”

 

“Alright. So, what? You just sit in a closet all day?”

 

“Well… yeah?”

 

“Wow. What a sad life you lead.”

 

“Well then why don’t you take us, smartass?” well, if he could take one thing of value from this apprenticeship why not an enchanted cane and hat? Snatching Gavin off his hook and Ray off the ground he heard the shop door jingle open and the dragging of Ryan’s heavy boots on the creaking floor. Well, he better get out of there fast or he was fucked.


End file.
